Angel
by PiscesChikk
Summary: On the anniversary of her death, Carter's number comes up.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Thank you to Wolfmusic for being an awesome beta. Hope you enjoy the story.

***Disclaimer ~ I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

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><p>He didn't wake up with a headache. In fact, in the last few months while being a narcotics detective and now working in homicide, Reese prided himself with being able to get up in the mornings without the heaviness that accompanied a night that'd been filled with far too many drinks. No, he didn't wake up with a hangover, but there was a feeling in his chest that he couldn't seem to shake.<p>

He got dressed, put on his suit and he descended the stairs of the apartment building that _John_ _Riley_ now lived in. A three floor walk up in Manhattan. His loft on Baxter Street had been vacant for a while. Truthfully, his new surroundings fit his life, his mood, and the unique circumstances that he, Finch, and Shaw found themselves in after Samaritan came online. After he returned from Italy and resumed work with the numbers, he found that coming home to the empty space only reminded him of how alone he was. Alone. Without her. Without Joss.

Joss.

_That's what it was_, he thought as his feet finally hit the pavement outside. Today marked a year since she'd been gone. Tears stung his eyes immediately, longing assaulted his senses, and he felt the emptiness he'd tamped down for months start to rise. Passing a street vendor, he shelled out money for a bouquet of flowers. Something bright and pretty like her. He'd finally visit her grave; he'd take her the flowers she always deserved.

When he got to the cemetery, it was quiet. The morning was early yet and nobody'd ventured through its gates. Except for him. He hadn't been able to visit before, hadn't wanted to face the permanency of her death. Sitting at her desk opposite Fusco in the precinct allowed him to still feel close to her in a way. He could pretend that he was just keeping her seat warm for her while she was gone. As he approached her grave, the memories of that fateful night became clear once more. She was in his arms again, trembling with pain. She was so small and fragile as he'd held her. So tiny and weak.

"Joss."

He uttered her name as he crouched low and laid the flowers near her headstone. God he missed her so much. He missed the way she'd say his name. Missed the way she'd roll her eyes when she was through with him and fed up. He missed the smile that came to her lips when they shared a tender moment. He missed her so much that it still hurt all this time later.

He didn't wipe at the tears that fell unchecked from his eyes. Didn't care that they stained his cheeks as he trailed his finger over the lettering of her name. He closed his eyes thinking of the kiss he allowed himself to take in the morgue. The words that he should have spoken long ago. Time had been wasted and now it was too late. But he'd never forget the tenderness in her eyes, the promise of a new beginning when she came to get him from the Third. He knew he was in trouble the moment she sat down on the top of the desk in front of him. He wanted to begin again, and she was ready to begin again too.

"I miss you."

He straightened up, feeling the breeze of a cool wind as it brushed over him and looked up. He felt almost as if she was watching over him. Captain Lynch had called him Carter's guardian angel once. He liked to think that now she was the one watching over him. He wiped his face as the intrusive sound of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Impatiently he answered, and the drone of the Machine's voice was on the other end. After weeks, he was being given a new number.

He whispered a goodbye, turned, and made his way to the precinct. Fusco was already there, a stack of files in his hand, and he peered over the rim of his glasses. After his visit to the cemetery what he wanted was a stiff drink. Instead, Reese settled for the cup of coffee in his hand. He sat down behind Carter's desk, a little more solemnly than usual, and felt a little more at peace being in her spot.

"Good morning, Detective Riley."

"Morning, Lionel."

"You doing okay?"

He finally made eye contact with his new partner, realizing that he must have remembered her too. Reese pursed his lips together and nodded. He would always miss her, always regret not being able to save her, but he felt as if he was truly okay. At least for now.

"Thanks."

Fusco nodded his head, the only other acknowledgement of today that he would give. For that, Reese was grateful. He and Fusco both turned to their phones then, Fusco for a case and he placed a call to Finch.

"Professor Whistler."

"Detective."

"I have a number I would like you to look into for me," he said, quietly. "Got it this morning."

Finch had been reluctant to give much assistance for the last number they'd protected. His unwillingness to help out this time was still evident by how long he paused before he asked Reese to go ahead with it.

"I have class until noon. I should be able to get you the information you need by 1pm."

"Thank you, Harold."

He looked up as Fusco walked over.

"Triple homicide in Washington Heights. We gotta go."

* * *

><p>The morning wore on and Reese watched the coroners take the bodies away. Three young men, victims of a drive-by. There was a bunch of onlookers but Reese doubted they'd get a witness. He and Fusco worked the crowd; he gave out his card, took verbal statements. He recognized one of the victims. Peter Sanderson. He was a young kid who'd just gotten in with the wrong crowd. Peter was twenty-two years old and was interested in making a name for himself. He'd started working as a soldier for Adam Horvat, one of the leaders of a Croatian syndicate. Reese had run into him a few times while he was in Narcotics. There'd be no name-making now.<p>

He took the gloves off his hands, wiping his brow, and felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

"I have the information you were asking about, Detective."

"What's the matter, Harold?" Reese asked, hearing a hint of concern in Finch's voice.

"I suggest you get over here as quickly as possible."

He left Fusco to handle the rest of the investigation; there wasn't much else they could do until the ME had submitted their reports anyway. He needed to get across town and find out what had Finch so shaken.

The tunnels to the old subway station provided the camouflage they needed to work in secret. Under these passageways, he was safe from the watchful eye of Samaritan. The surveillance cameras no longer worked and there was nothing here in the subway car that could provide Samaritan any way to track what they were doing or scrutinize their activity. Behind the monitors, he found Finch running a number sequence over and over.

"I keep getting the same name over and over again, but it can't possibly be right."

"Whose number came up?" Reese asked, as he stood beside Finch.

Harold shook his head as the photograph flashed across the screen once more. Finch waved at the screen. "This is what I'm talking about."

They both stared at a photo of Joss Carter.

"Joss?" Reese asked, turning to Finch. "Why would it give us her number?"

He knew she was dead, had mourned her, had visited her grave just this morning, still his heart hammered in his chest. What did it mean?

"I guess that's what we have to figure out, Detective."

Reese watched Finch tape Carter's photo to the subway car glass, stared at it feeling almost like he was being haunted. "What are you trying to tell us, Joss?" he whispered. "I'm going to go to her house, Finch. Look around, see what I can find. You do the same here."

He didn't wait for a reply but exited the car suddenly feeling annoyed, angry even, that the Machine didn't think to give them her number while she was alive. Before Simmons had shot her. But what was it trying to tell them? What did it want them to possibly do now?

He took a taxi to Brooklyn, got off in Carter's old neighbourhood, and stood across the street. He'd come here right after he'd regained consciousness in the safe house. Still in pain, still feeling her devastating loss, it was the first place he'd thought to come after she'd died. He'd sat on her bed and thought about putting a bullet into his head that morning. Staring at her front door, he couldn't help but think how emotional he felt just being there.

As he crossed over and walked up the front steps, his hand trembled as he worked the lock, picking it. The house had been empty for a while and he was glad that vandals hadn't broken in to damage anything. The alarm was activated and his fingers moved over the key-pad, surprised that he still remembered the code.

He walked from room to room while memories flashed through his mind. Thoughts of the times he spent with her in her living room, her kitchen. They were all moments that he wished he could relive again. Moments he would never get back. He felt fresh tears sting his eyes once more, felt a lump in his throat. He had no idea what he was looking for, but the emptiness in the house only made him wish to see her face again.

He let himself out, feeling more like he was fleeing the house, as though he was running away from what he couldn't face. He went back to the precinct determined to get caught up in work and picked up a pile of mail that was left on his desk all addressed to Detective John Riley. He leafed through the envelopes one by one, sorting them by importance. The last envelope was addressed to Joss. Her name was spelled out in bold black letters. It was a magazine subscription, dated just this month: _Ebony_. He looked at the woman on the cover, the lettering above her name, thinking of Joss looking through the pages.

"Fusco," he called out.

"What?"

He held the magazine up in his hand, waving it at Lionel. "Carter still getting mail here?"

"Every now and again something'll cross her desk, yeah."

"Anyone ever come to collect it?"

"Not anyone I know in particular. I do know that the Captain usually gets 'em. Where she sends 'em off to, you'd have to ask her."

At the moment, the Captain was out of town. Rita Torres was tough, played everything by the rules. She was worlds apart from Fusco's old boss who'd happened to be one of HR's members and had gotten scooped up when Donnelly had made that huge bust a few years ago. Pity he wasn't still here, Reese thought. He might have been able to get the forwarding information from him with a little persuasion. Reese called Finch instead, asking him to access Torres' computer to see if he could locate an address. It didn't take him long and within a half hour he sent him the location of a house in Montauk. That was about a two and a half hour drive away.

Reese looked at his watch checking the time. It was just after 2:30pm. If he left now, he could make it there by 5:30pm at the latest. He put his jacket back on and got up.

"You going somewhere, Riley?" Fusco asked.

"I'm following up on a lead. I probably won't be back for the evening. You can work without supervision can't you, Lionel?" he teased. As he walked away, Fusco's laughter sounded in his ears.

He took one of Finch's cars. The drive did nothing to calm his nerves or help him figure out who it was that was receiving Carter's mail. Was it a relative? Someone who'd stolen her identity and was living as her? What did the Machine want? Was this person a threat to Taylor? Guilt pricked him. Pricked him hard. He had yet to check up on him as Carter had asked. He couldn't. He'd been too selfish, too caught up in his own pain to visit Carter's son. He wondered if it'd be too late to do it now. Maybe late was better than never.

By the time he got to Montauk the colour of the sky was already changing. The sun was lower and would set soon. He passed the bicycle rental shops, the centre of town, and soon the lighthouse came into view in the distance. When he got to the address, he stopped the car at the curb instead of pulling into the driveway. The entire neighbourhood was quiet. There were some small children two yards over playing in the grass as a man watched them from the front porch, but besides them no one else was outside. It was a two-story Victorian style home, painted pale blue with white trim. It had a wrap-around porch that led to a verandah on the left side and a pathway to a beach in the back of the house. There were no cars parked out front, and he wondered if anyone was home.

Reese climbed up the steps and rang the doorbell. He could hear it echo throughout the house and when no one answered, he rang it again. Another minute passed. When there was still no response, he walked around the porch to the side, looking through the windows trying to catch a glimpse of someone. The sound of the surf in the back filled his ears and he turned his head to gaze at the water. Seagulls called to each other, a warm breeze blew and he descended the steps that led to the back yard. A pebbled walkway eventually blended into sand and he stepped onto it, getting closer to the water. He looked in both directions searching for someone, anyone, a reason why the Machine led him here and his eyes rested on a woman in the distance. He couldn't make her out clearly. But she stood near a fenced-in yard laughing with a man nearby.

He contemplated breaking into the house and turned to go back to the yard but something stopped him. He turned around. The woman was heading in his direction and he squinted the closer she got. He walked toward her, the back of his neck tingling, hair standing on edge, heart beating fast. Who was she?

His long legs were closing the gap between them quickly and when he could finally see her face he could hardly believe it. He shook his head, feeling too scared to believe it. His mouth went dry, his jaw tensed, when he finally stood in front of her.

"Joss?" He stared at her in disbelief, feeling paralyzed for a moment. "Joss?" he repeated. She looked up at him her eyes widening, shining with tears that started filling them. She couldn't believe he was here either. "Joss," he called her name again, reaching out to touch her face. Was she even real? Did he get drunk, pass out somewhere and was he hallucinating right now? If he was, he didn't want to wake up. Not anymore.

She covered his hand with hers, a nervous smile crossing her face. "It's me, John."

Without another word he pulled her into his arms in a crushing embrace. "God." He couldn't believe it. He felt joy, he felt peace, and hope and every good thing he'd ever experienced since he'd met her, start to fill him, replacing the sadness that had run down into his bones since she'd been gone. He felt as if he'd been given another chance and he didn't want to let her go. Couldn't, even though he knew he was holding her too tight.

He felt her arms go around his waist, felt her holding onto him. He'd missed her. So much. And even though he showed no signs of letting her go, she didn't protest. She didn't fight it. She just let him hold her, knowing it was what they both needed. When he finally pulled back a little, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead but his hands remained on her shoulders. He didn't want to break any physical contact; he just had to be near her.

"John." She called his name quietly as he looked at her. He traced the sides of her face, her eyebrows, thumbed her cheeks. He wondered if she was even real.

"John, come on. Let's go inside."

Carter took his hand, leading him back toward the house and they entered it through the back door. She felt his fingers tighten around hers, felt the urgent energy that began to wrap around the both of them. She'd missed this man so much. She'd been in isolation for a year now. She'd had to lie to her family, her son, her coworkers knowing they'd mourned her. But she'd had to. She thought about Taylor and how hurt and lost he would've been without his mother. Thought about her mom and wondered if she was lonely. She thought about Fusco at the precinct working opposite her desk; about Finch, and even Shaw, every now and again. But John? She thought about John every single day.

She thought about that fateful night when they were in the morgue with Quinn. She thought about the words he'd said to her, that kiss and how surprised she was by it. She shouldn't have been, but feelings weren't something they ever talked about. They never discussed things. And besides, he'd had Zoe. She'd been caught up with finding Cal's murderer. What was she supposed to think would happen between them? But when she lay in his arms and the cold hand of unconsciousness wrapped itself around her, she heard the sound of his whimpers and knew everything he'd said to her in the morgue was real.

She'd died.

She didn't know how long it'd been for, but her heart had definitely stopped. She woke up in a hospital bed and had been told that they'd revived her in the ambulance. Her new Captain had come to see her and together they agreed that after Simmons' escape, and with the HR case still pending, it was best to let everyone think she was, in fact, still dead. It hadn't been easy. She'd cried for weeks afterward, feeling guilty for lying, missing her son, wanting to go to him and tell him she was alright. But she couldn't. Simmons was still out there and who knew who else would come to finish the job he'd started?

Her life was still in danger.

So she'd entered WITSEC. She'd gone into hiding. And until the trial was over, this was where she had to be. They'd told her that Simmons had been killed; none of his lower level officers in HR knew who the head boss was. And with nothing much to gain, none of them were talking. Fusco had had the key to the safety deposit box stolen when Simmons had taken him. The deal she'd made with Yogorov was falling apart in the wake of her death. Everything was a mess. The Man in the Suit wouldn't be a credible witness to the incidents that took place at the dead judge's house. She was the only person left who could put Quinn away with her testimony. Soon she would have to testify. She'd have to face him again, and then face everybody else she'd lied to. She didn't count on John finding her first. She didn't count on him coming here.

He'd held onto her on the beach as if he couldn't believe it was her. It was understandable. She couldn't believe it was him walking toward her on the sand either. She'd never been in his arms that way before. But it'd felt good. It felt good after being alone for so long to be held by the man who meant so much to her. And he still meant a lot to her. She'd had time to think over the last year, to think about what had been building between them from the very beginning. With each passing day she longed to see him more and more. Longed to hear his voice. She even missed the way he'd get on her last nerve but still find a way to make her smile in the end.

She just missed _him_.

And now he was in the kitchen with her, following her to the living room. She knew they had to talk. Knew they _needed_ to talk about so many things. But she just wanted him to hold her right now. Even though they hadn't established a thing. She didn't know where his head was right now or even if he was with someone.

"How?" she heard him ask. Her back was turned to him, staring at the car parked in front of the yard. He'd driven here to find her.

"How, Joss? I watched you die. In my arms." His voice broke as he spoke, shook with every word he uttered. "I was…"

She closed her eyes, hearing his footsteps approach. "I'm sorry, John. I couldn't tell you, I couldn't come to you, I just…"

She felt his arms around her waist drawing her close. There was nothing but need in his touch. And there was nothing but need within her.

"I was lost without you. For so long. I didn't know…who I was anymore."

The raw hurt in his voice did her in, the agony he was trying to convey so palpable, it went right through her. Maybe he needed her to explain. Soon there would be time for words, but in this moment she didn't think any of them were necessary. Maybe she could show him instead.

She turned in his arms and the open look of want was there in his eyes. She felt caught up in it, felt it pour over her and it spoke to the latent feelings inside her own heart. She touched his face, drawing it closer to hers and she kissed him, hesitantly at first, and then she opened her lips under his. Months of loss poured out between them. Months of missing and longing was laid out and consumed. She felt him cup the back of her neck, felt him pulling her closer. She grabbed at the lapel of his jacket with one hand while the other travelled underneath it to rest on his chest.

"Come with me," she told him when their lips finally parted. "Come with me."

She took his hand and led him to the staircase. He put his hand around her waist and her stomach clenched as she felt his fingers splayed over it. She told herself to breathe. Told herself to breathe slowly. But her body was tingling, responding to him so strongly she couldn't control it. The staircase seemed to go on forever and when they reached the top, she led him into the door immediately opposite it.

The windows were open, and the curtains blew forward as a strong breeze came through the window. Reese looked around, taking in the size of the room, noticed the sofa, the vanity, the large closet, but his eyes finally rested on Carter once again.

When she'd kissed him, it was more than what he'd hoped for. Nothing at all what he'd imagined coming here. But her kiss made him giddy, heavy with desire, and he wanted to show her how much he cared about her, how much he needed her. He wanted to quell the uncertainty she seemed to feel. But more than that, he wanted to drown in the sensations that she was evoking in him.

Her hands moved over his chest and he bent his head to kiss her lips again. She moaned softly as their tongues touched, as his hands roamed her back and pulled her closer to feel what was growing between his legs. His fingers moved under the thin straps of her dress and he drew them down over her arms. Slowly he pulled them lower, moving the fabric to her waist, and eventually it fell to the floor. She pulled at his jacket and rid him of it, as well as his shirt underneath. The soft touch of her lips on his chest caused him to shiver and when she snaked her tongue out to run it over his nipples it drove him wild. It had been so long since he'd felt a woman's touch. So long since he'd felt desire like this course through his veins. Now he wanted all of her. Everything she was, body and soul. He'd meant to control the pace of their lovemaking, he'd meant to take the lead, but he was the one who was trembling. He was the one who was on the verge of losing control. He was hard. Hard as a rock and the fleeting touch of her hands against his pulsing erection was pure agony.

She sent fire through him.

He had to pull it back.

He kissed the tender skin near her ears, ran his tongue along her earlobe. Tenderly he touched his lips there as Joss squirmed in his arms. His fingers played along her spine and she drew his lips to hers once more. In an instant, she felt the tables turning. In an instant, when his lips touched hers, she felt the transfer of heat between them. He sucked greedily at her mouth, his lips demanding and strong. And everything he sought to take, she readily gave up.

She could feel liquid heat pooling between her thighs. She wanted him. Wanted to taste him, feel him, wanted to be underneath him while he moved inside her. She loosened his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. When there was no further barrier between them, when they'd both rid the other of the last of their clothing, they looked at each other.

His eyes swept over her as she gazed back at him. She touched the scars on his torso, the one on his collar bone, and traced the discoloured scar from the bullet that'd gone straight through his left shoulder. There was sheer vulnerability in his eyes as if he was nervous about the mars on his skin. Taking his hand, she raised it to the scar left behind by Simmons in a moment that would forever bind them together. Looking back at him with the same insecurity in her eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief as he bent his head to kiss it.

Then she was in his arms.

He was holding her again and took her over to the bed. His mouth became busy placing kisses everywhere. He parted her legs, and as he took one nipple into his mouth and began to suck, she felt him slip a lone finger inside her. She arched her back and he slid it in again. Over and over as he flicked his tongue oh so sweetly over her nipple. She could barely breathe, she could barely manage to whisper his name. It left her mouth as a ragged moan. She was almost ready to explode. And yet…

Another finger.

She felt so tight on his fingers, her nipples so soft in his mouth. He tasted the next one, enjoying the soft feel of her golden flesh on his tongue. She was clawing at his back now, her heels digging into his calves. She was close; he could feel it. She was so close.

He ran his tongue along the entrance of her mouth, dipped it in and out while he finger fucked her deeper, harder. She started to whimper and moan as he looked straight into her eyes.

"I want you to come, Joss." She turned her head and closed her eyes, and he knew sensation was starting to overtake her. He watched her face as she moved under his hand, watched her face contort as his fingers moved inside her. She bucked against them, trying to pull him further in and he kissed her hard once more. "I want you to come."

"I'm gonna come, John," she moaned. It was breathy and light. It was the sound of ecstasy. "I'm gonna come."

She squeezed her eyes shut and then he knew. She was there.

Her next moan was deep, starting as a rumble in her throat, and when she let it out it echoed in the room. Her thighs trembled beneath him, her walls vibrated on his fingers, and when he tried to kiss her again, she moaned hard into his mouth. Her orgasm was long and drawn out. it seemed like wave after wave of pleasure was hitting her body.

He chose that minute to enter her. Chose that precise moment to plunge himself in deep. His thrusts met her orgasm, met the billows of desire that still held her in its grasp and promised something even deeper. He thought that he'd be able to last. Thought that he could take her on a journey to rapture, but the feel of her inside was almost too much to bear.

"You feel so good, Joss." It was a whimper against her neck, and he buried his head there. He couldn't wait. He drew her legs further up his back and increased his speed, pouring every ounce of his pent up feelings behind his thrusts. With his cheek to hers, he could hear the strangled cries that left her mouth. he could feel the sharpness of her nails as they raked over his scalp. He felt the friction of his cock moving against her walls and it drew everything out of him.

"You feel so soft, baby."

She couldn't talk, she couldn't move. All she could do was feel. She didn't think it was possible to reach her peak again quite so soon, but there it was. It hit her. Hard. Again. And she arched her back, clenched onto him. Gripped him tight. She heard him gasp at the sensation that wrapped around him too.

"John!"

She screamed his name and went limp underneath him. It was what she'd wanted. And he'd given it to her. He tensed up atop her, his body quaking with the last tremor of his orgasm. He was out of breath, as was she.

"Joss, Joss, Joss…" Her name became a melody in his mouth. A chant he whispered again and again as he planted soft kisses to her face and neck. "Don't leave me again, Joss. I can't lose you, again."

* * *

><p>The sun had finally set and the sky outside was already a fully darkened blue. Streetlights were on and through the window Reese could still hear the calming sound of the surf. Joss lay next to him, her leg thrown over his, and she was quietly nestled near his chest.<p>

His mind was filled with so many questions, thinking of the year that was lost and how much that time had changed them. She seemed different too. He couldn't quite explain it. Her strength and resolve was there, but beneath that there was a certain sadness that seemed to rest over her. It reminded him of the sadness he'd carried since he'd lost her. He wished he could make it all disappear.

She shifted in the bed, moving from his side, and he felt a stark cold when she was gone. She padded to the bathroom and he sat up in bed, the sheet bunching in his lap. When she came out, she left the light on behind her and stood by the door watching him. The glow in the back of her cast a haunting shadow across the room.

"I don't know how long I was gone or…all I know is that when I woke up, I'd just come out of surgery and I was happy to be alive."

She shifted her feet, still standing at the door, and he wondered how hard it must have been for her. She'd literally been all alone. She told him about the agreement with Captain Torres, the WITSEC programme, and coming here for her convalescence. They'd been apart, separate, but still travelled similar paths of healing and coming to terms with what had happened to them.

"I miss my son. I miss my boy so much."

"Come here," he said, and she walked back to the bed and into his arms. He imagined that it must be killing her inside to not see her son and be with him.

"He's doing better now. He's settling in school. At least that's what they tell me. He's probably a ladies' man now, getting ready for college. This is a year that I'll never be able to get back, John."

It turned out that she knew a lot of other things too. She knew he was a detective now, working at the Eighth, no less. She knew he was Fusco's partner and found it ridiculous but not all that surprising that Fusco didn't question how he even got the position. Fusco was always of the mindset that what you didn't know couldn't hurt you. He'd said as much to her in the past. Reese himself found the situation unbelievable at times. Sometimes he'd see a familiar face from the station that Shaw had rescued him from and felt nervous that he'd be recognized. That would be the day. That would be the end. But he'd been lucky so far. Very lucky. He supposed that any evidence or footage that could have tied him to any past arrests had been taken care of by the Machine when his new identity was created.

That was another thing she didn't know about. Samaritan. And how much their lives had been changed because of it. He'd never told her about the Machine. How could he tell her that now there were two?

He felt her sigh against his chest and stroked her back. "How'd you find me?" she asked.

"Well…" What could he say? How could he explain to her that the Machine was responsible for leading him here? And how could he explain that by doing so it was telling him that she might be in danger?

"Was it Finch's _super computer_?"

"What?"

"I know, John. I know about Finch's system. I've known for a long time. I was just waiting, hoping, that you'd trust me enough to tell me on your own."

"It was never about trust. It's always been about keeping you safe, Joss. That's what's always been important to me. And it wasn't my secret to tell."

He looked down at her in the dark, hearing the disappointment in her voice. They still had a long way to go before things got back to the way they were. But he was willing to do whatever it took.

"You know what this means, right?"

He nodded his head, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"It means I'm in trouble. Either somebody knows I'm alive or they know I'm here. I'm supposed to testify soon. Quinn may be on trial, but I'm sure he still has friends in high places who owe him a few favours."

"I know, but I won't let anything happen to you. Not again, Joss. And I want you to come with me."

"What?"

"Like you said, if there's a chance that someone even thinks you're alive they're going to come looking for you. If I found you here, somebody else could too. It's not safe for you. Let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe where I can protect you."

"John, no."

She didn't understand.

She hadn't been there during the months when it'd felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. She hadn't been there to witness how he cried over her body like a baby. She wasn't there to see him refuse to let her go when the paramedics came. She wasn't there to hear him calling out her name while unconsciousness was pulling him under. She wasn't there to see him contemplate all the times he wanted to put a bullet through his brain because he'd been helpless to stop Simmons.

She didn't, couldn't, understand how much he needed her. How much seeing that she was alive had made _him_ come alive. He'd visited her grave this morning, something he thought he'd never have to do. He didn't want to do it again. And he wouldn't.

He'd have to make her understand.

"Joss."

He cupped her face, kissing her lips so fleetingly, feeling like his entire world was wrapped up in her in this moment. Feeling like it was in danger of slipping through his fingers yet again.

"John, I -"

She tried to whisper, tried to speak, but he silenced any other words she might have said. His hands dropped to her sides, his thumbs circled her nipples and he felt them hardening, springing to life. He gathered her in his lap before rolling over with her in his arms. Once beneath him on the bed he pressed his lips to the soft skin between her breasts. Her moans echoed as he rolled her nipples with his tongue.

He pressed kisses over her stomach, felt her fingers dig into his shoulders and felt himself getting hard for her again. She was a flame and he was the moth that could not stay away. He had to touch her, had to taste her, and he couldn't get enough. He lowered himself between her legs and she slid her toes along his back.

He tasted her, ran his tongue along her folds from bottom to top, and felt her squirm. She smelled so good. Tasted. So. Good. She was soft under his mouth. Wet. Moist. And he felt her tremble. He lapped at her folds, took them between his lips, inhaled her scent and it drove him wild. He let out a groan as his tongue circled her clit. His desire for her was rising rapidly.

Did she know? Could she feel how much he needed her?

Joss arched her back at the depth of pure sensation that washed over her. What was he trying to do? What was he trying to prove by this sweet torture he was putting her through? She fisted her hand in his hair and shifted under his mouth, but he pulled her hips closer, pushing his face even further between her legs.

She could barely breathe now, could hardly move. Her body was on fire straight down to her core and he was the delicious flame that sparked the inferno. As the tip of his tongue trailed the entire length of her folds and he raised his head, he looked at her. In the dark she couldn't fully see his face, but the light from the bathroom lent some illumination to the room. His eyes were intense, his breathing heavy. As he moved to hover over her, she could feel the weight of his cock on her thigh, felt the drizzle of his pre cum as it leaked.

He kissed her soundly, claiming her mouth, pushing his tongue past her teeth while he firmly parted her thighs wide. His entry was swift and hard, much like his thrusts. He held onto her hips as he pounded into her. She felt his weight, felt all of his strength, felt his desperation as he ground into her.

She was trapped beneath him, trapped together in their own bubble that was passion-filled and neither of them wanted to break free. She raised her legs higher over his back, taking him in further, pulling his length closer, feeling the beautiful bliss of him moving inside. He adjusted his angle, hitting her walls in a different way and it sent a new tremor through her.

"Oh God," she screamed, raking her nails across his back so hard she was sure she drew blood.

She was coming. He was taking her there, but she wasn't alone. Passion was drawing them closer and closer together. She started to scream as he increased his speed, increased the rotation of his hips and powered into her, filling her to the hilt.

Reese felt his breath stop, felt it hitch in his chest and he stilled atop Joss. Her face was buried in his chest, mewling against it and she held onto him tightly. He shifted his weight slightly, to give her room to breathe and he opened his mouth, filling his own lungs with air. He was exhausted, but he still pressed a soft kiss to the side of her face.

After a few more moments, he eased his weight off of her and rolled to the side. She got up, threw her arm around him and rested her head on his chest. He held her close and kissed the top of her head. Neither of them spoke, everything had been poured out between them when they'd made love. Nothing else needed to be said.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Once again thanks to Wolfmusic for the beta help.

Disclaimer ~ I own nothing you see here.

* * *

><p>Carter looked out the car window watching the street lights as they passed them in a blur. She looked at the signs that indicated which exit to take to get back to Manhattan, the cars they passed in the other lanes. She glanced over at Reese as he sat in the driver's seat next to her and sighed. He wouldn't take no for an answer and he insisted that he wouldn't leave without her. He looked at her with an expression that would intimidate a lesser woman. He didn't scare her, but it was no use arguing with him when he was like this, so she'd packed up as many of her things as she could and he'd loaded them into his trunk. Now they were heading back to Manhattan at midnight. She was tired. And she was sure he was too.<p>

She'd wanted to call her contact at WITSEC, tell him what was going on, but John advised against it. They weren't sure who might know where she was so they couldn't risk it. For now, he said, he wanted her to trust him. She always had in the past so it wasn't a big stretch right now, but she wondered if this was the wisest decision to make at this time of the night. Was he doing all this out of emotion of seeing her again and because they'd just made love? What had that meant to him anyway? What did it mean for _them_?

His phone rang and he answered it, keeping his eyes on the road. From the conversation, it sounded like he was talking to Finch. She smiled a little, thinking of Harold and the last conversation they'd had outside the Eighth. John had yet to be released and he wanted her to check on him at the Third. He'd been one of the first to congratulate her after she'd gotten her shield back. He'd been the only one who still called her Detective even though she'd been demoted all those months earlier. It wasn't a hard thing to admit that she missed Harold too.

Mid conversation, she felt John's fingers curl around hers. He was arranging a place for her to stay for the night, but they were going to meet Finch first. She squeezed his fingers back, turning her head towards him. He was determined to take care of her. Determined to keep her safe, and he would do whatever he had to, to ensure he wouldn't lose her again. When the conversation was over, he glanced at her.

"We're almost there," he said, quietly.

When they got into Manhattan, the air seemed to change. There was a noticeable difference in the energy of the city compared to the quiet surroundings of the neighbourhood she'd lived in for the last year. She forgot that the atmosphere felt this charged and alive. John drove them to an old section of the city where the old subway station was located and parked about a block away from the entrance. They got out together and he pulled her to his side as they made their way to the tunnels.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"A lot's happened since you've been gone. Finch and I had to move our base of operations. For a long time we didn't even have one."

"Why'd you have to move?" she asked, and noticed that he kept looking upwards at the video cameras next to a street light a block further up.

They rounded a corner and he pulled her into the darkness of a tunnel. "Well, you know about the system that Finch built."

"Yeah."

"Well, it turns out that Arthur Claypool, one of Finch's former classmates from MIT, built something similar. It's called Samaritan. And while Harold's machine allows us to make the decision about how we stop potential threats to victims, Samaritan is less…lenient."

"How so?"

"It eliminates them. Without prejudice."

They continued to walk together, and in the dark, she could barely see her surroundings, but she made out a bright light in the distance. She tried to process what John was telling her about the library they used to work out of, having to team up with the hacker who'd kidnapped Finch. It was a lot to take in and believe for that matter.

"Who controls this…Samaritan? Claypool?"

"Not anymore, sadly. He died a couple months ago from a brain tumor. A man named Greer controls it now. He's in charge of a group called Decima."

"Decima. Hmm. So this…Samaritan…it knows who you all are and your identities?"

"Yes."

"And it's basically put all of you on its own personal hit list."

"Us and anyone else that knows about Finch's creation."

"And that's why you all have new personas. I understand. Well, if Finch's system is as complex as I imagined it to be, he should be able to figure out a way to beat this Samaritan."

"It's not as easy as that, Joss."

"Of course it's not easy. I'm sure that building the Machine wasn't easy either, but he did it. Something that's all seeing, all knowing, with an unlimited amount of access to a plethora of information. Something that led you to me even after you thought I was dead? Harold can counter it. He just has to sit down and figure out how."

"I underestimated you," he admitted, standing still beside her.

"A lot of people do," she said, and chuckled.

"I won't make that mistake again."

He bent his head to kiss her quickly, and even in this tunnel she could feel everything in her start to respond to him again. It was the kind of kiss that was brief but still somehow managed to shake you all the way down to your toes. It was short and sweet, but oh-so-powerful as well. She wanted more. She couldn't remember having such a strong reaction like this to anyone in the past, including Paul. She couldn't even explain it.

"Come on." He took her hand as they entered the old subway station, and she could hear barking and the rushed patter of canine feet. In the next instant, Bear came bounding toward them and she crouched to the ground to pet him.

"Hi, Bear. How you been?" The dog snuggled closer to her, licking her palm. "Aw, I missed you too."

Carter looked up as she heard the familiar shuffling of feet. She stood up straight as Finch exited an old subway car and stared at her in disbelief. John hadn't told him who he was bringing over. As far as Finch knew, John had found a lead and wanted to talk to him about it. They walked over to him as he stood rooted to the spot.

"Detective?" he said, his mouth agape. "Is that really you?"

As she stood before him, she could see his eyes glistening with tears. He blinked furiously at them, putting a hand on her shoulder. They'd never exchanged more than a handshake in the past, but there was genuine warmth and affection in his touch.

"It's me, Harold."

"You don't know how…terribly relieved I am to see that you are still with us."

She was touched by his sentiment. He, like John, could be incredibly stoic at times. There was still the usual restraint in his words, but this rare display of emotion was one she'd never seen before from him. She wasn't sure she'd ever see it again in the near future. But it made her feel happy to know that she meant so much to so many people. That there were still people out there that cared so much about her.

"Thank you, Harold. I really appreciate that."

He nodded his head, and gestured for them to follow him back into the subway car. She and Reese flanked him as he sat before his monitors. It felt strange to be in their secret hideaway while they worked, while they exchanged theories on what the danger to her could be or who could be behind it. But after an hour of deliberating together, she started to feel like her old self again. She felt the detective inside her start to reemerge. She felt the excitement rushing through her veins once more.

"How'd you figure out where I was, John?" she asked, and finally took a seat next to Finch.

"Some mail arrived for you earlier today. Fusco told me that the Captain took any correspondence that came for you, and Finch and I figured out where she was having it sent."

"Who normally brings you your mail, Detective?" Finch asked, turning his chair towards her.

"This older guy, Bernie. He's in my neighbourhood every week."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Reese asked.

"Well, I haven't had any mail for the week yet, but last week when it was dropped off there was a new guy. Much younger. Said his name was David."

Reese squinted, turning to her. "Did he say what happened to Bernie?"

Carter shrugged. "Said he was out sick and he was just filling in for him."

"What's Bernie's last name, Carter? Do you know?"

"Davenport," she responded.

As soon she'd said the word, Finch typed in a search for Bernie Davenport. Within minutes he'd found a brief history on the man, where he lived, his children, how many years he'd worked for the postal service.

"There's nothing in his personnel file that indicates that he's ill."

"What about local police reports, Finch? Try those."

Finch did as Reese suggested and he found there'd been a missing person's report filled out just this morning for Bernard Davenport. It was filed by his oldest daughter, Mary. John had been right, Carter thought. It wasn't safe to stay at the house anymore. They'd found out where she was through her recurrent mail.

"But who would reveal your location? Could it be the Captain?" Finch asked.

Reese shook his head. "No, she doesn't strike me as the type to give Carter up. She's pretty much one of the most honest Captains on the force right now."

"I agree," Carter said, nodding. "I don't think it's her."

"Then it must be your contact at WITSEC. What's his name?"

"William Bell. But…"

"But what, Carter?" Reese asked.

"I guess I just can't believe it'd be him."

She knew Quinn's influence was far reaching. He'd successfully corrupted a large number of officers and high ranking members of the force in the NYPD. She just didn't think that his influence travelled all the way to the Department of Justice and the US Marshall's office. Bill had helped her get settled in Montauk. He was the one who regularly gave her updates on the life she left behind, on her family, and Taylor. Taylor! If Bill was truly a part of Quinn's schemes, and let him know that she was alive, they could use Taylor to get to her.

"I know you don't want it to be him. But right now we can't rule out anyone or anything. Finch will look into it and so will I. In the mean time, you need some rest."

For a while she'd forgotten that she was tired. But as time wore on, it was starting to hit her. Reese rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn. Finch was showing signs of fatigue as well. The three of them needed to call it a night. Finch gave them the address of a condo that was less than fifteen minutes away. She was grateful that they didn't have to drive far.

When they arrived, John dumped her suitcase in one of the bedrooms while she walked around the place. There were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and dining room area, wood floors, and tall windows. Carter was impressed as she looked around. They'd stopped at an all night convenience store for something to drink and some light groceries. John promised that he'd get her some real food in the morning. She wasn't particularly hungry, so she didn't mind waiting.

She unpacked the plastic bag, looking at the two containers of water, a loaf of bread, eggs, ham, milk, and cereal. She shook her head wondering if there were even any utensils in this place, any flatware or even dinnerware. She knew they were trivial things to be worried about, but she figured if she focused on that maybe it'd take her mind off of the fact that she was worried for her son. She thought this would all be over soon. She thought that she could finally put this all behind her and get on with her life. Her real life. But this was yet another obstacle that she had to face. She kissed her teeth in frustration, balling her hands into fists on the counter top.

John's footsteps sounded on the floor as he made his way out front from the bedroom. Carter didn't turn around when she heard him pause near the hallway, nor did she move when she heard him coming in her direction. He didn't say a word, but she felt him reach around from behind, felt him box her in at the counter, felt him rest his chin on her shoulder. Her stomach clenched at his nearness.

He didn't have to say a word. She could hear everything without him speaking. He was sorry this was happening. He was sorry that someone was still trying to kill her. He knew she was worried about Taylor and her mother. He would keep his promise and not let anything happen to her son. He would protect her mother too, if he had to. He knew that she was anxious about the trial. He cared about her. He needed her. He missed her. He didn't want to let her out of his sight. She heard everything he wanted to say but didn't. She felt the exact same way.

His hands went around her waist and he kissed the side of her neck. She inhaled quickly, a mixture of emotion and something stronger surged through her. As tired as she was, it surged, it shook her. It was so strong and it came from deep down inside. Maybe it'd always been there.

Reese knew that Carter was scared. She was quiet in the convenience store. She was quiet on the way over to the condo, and when he put his arms around her she hadn't spoken a word. Did she know that he was a little scared too? He was scared that maybe he was coming on too strong. He was scared that she'd rebuff him any minute, send him on his way. He was scared that she didn't trust him anymore. Didn't trust him to find out who was behind all this. He was scared that after everything was done, and everything went back to normal, she'd tell him that this had all been a mistake. And he couldn't handle that.

He was angry with himself for needing her like he did. He'd loved Jessica, cared about her, but Joss was so different from any woman he'd ever been with. He'd loved Jessica, but he _needed_ Joss. In a way that he could not explain. Not even to himself. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, letting his lips linger there and she raised a hand to his face. He turned his head, kissed her palm and held her hand.

"John."

"Yes, Joss?"

She turned around in his arms and ever so sweetly kissed him. As her arms went around his neck, he allowed himself to get lost in her. Her kiss was soft, gentle and tender, shy almost, which he found surprising considering how intimate they'd been with each other earlier. He moaned when her lips opened under his, moaned when their tongues touched, moaned when she pressed her body up against his. This was what he'd been longing for, for a year. This is what he knew no other woman would've been able to give him.

He put his arms around her waist and lifted her from the ground and onto one of the bar stools. His hands dropped to her thighs and he moved between her legs. Her hands cupped the back of his head and she leaned forward, deepening the kiss. He was wrapped up in the fullness of her, feeling it travel down to his bones, and he knew she was there to stay. How did he live for a year without this? How had he lived so long without her? _None of it mattered anymore_, he thought as he sucked on her mouth. He'd never go back to being without her again.

Their lips parted for a moment while they both caught their breath. His heart was beating fast, his senses heightened. She leaned her forehead on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed that way for a moment, but he knew that he'd have to leave her, go back to his own place. He wanted to give her some space, didn't want to wear out his welcome too soon. Still, he wasn't looking forward to any time spent away from her now that they'd just been reunited.

"I can't believe you actually found me," she said chuckling, almost if she'd read his mind.

"You should've known I would," he said, smiling. "My internal compass always led me to you."

"You're right," she admitted, laughing. "You never could stay away. Even when I asked you to."

"And why do you think that is, huh?" he asked, playfully nipping at her neck.

"I don't know, you tell me, John."

She squealed as he did it again. And again, and again, until it became so ticklish she sat there squirming trying to escape from him but he held her still and she was unable to do so. She laughed as he continued to play with her. And once he heard the beautiful sound in his ears his heart melted.

"You don't know why I couldn't stay away?"

He teased and kissed her on her ear this time. She was extremely sensitive, ticklish, and she could hardly bear it. But he loved to hear her laugh, loved that after a year apart they were sharing an unprecedented light-hearted moment. He picked her up off the bar stool and carried her down the hallway and into the bedroom. He put her down on the bed on her belly and, instead of letting up, he proceeded to tickle her over her back, playfully biting her, nipping at her until she couldn't take it anymore.

At the end of it she was breathless, but the heaviness of everything that'd been revealed was gone. For the moment at least. They lay together on the top of the covers, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, legs dangling just above the ground.

She reached for his hand, holding it and he felt content for the first time in a very long time. "And just why can't you stay away? Tell me."

"You know why, Joss."

She could feel him looking at her, willing her to return his gaze. How could she resist? She couldn't. Especially not now. She wasn't scared by what she saw in those blue depths, she was simply surprised that what she saw ran so deep. It was amazing.

"Did you want to stay here tonight, John?"

"Yes," he replied, quietly. "But I wasn't going to force the issue."

"I want you to stay. I'd really like it if you stayed."

"Then I'll stay."

"Okay."

After getting some night clothes from her things, and after he stripped down to his boxer briefs, they slipped into bed together, both of them tired, but still unable to sleep. They lay together in the middle of the bed with her head rested on his shoulder. He idly took her hand, sliding it back and forth between both of his, running his fingers over her palms, tracing the skin over her fingers.

"You know, a thought had occurred to me," he said.

"What thought?"

"Since we're both legally dead, I could ditch this detective job and we could just run away together. Leave New York."

"You wanna run away with me?" she asked, smiling.

"Since the day I first met you," he said kissing the back of her hand. She playfully pulled it away and hit him on the shoulder.

"No, you didn't."

"Of course, at the time, you wanted to have me arrested, so I knew it would take a while for you to warm up to me."

She remembered their first meeting, the way he'd stared at her. They'd come a long way. "So where would we run away to?"

"I'm partial to Europe, mostly. Old cities."

"Oh, really?"

"Venice in particular."

"What do you know about Venice, John?" she teased.

He turned toward her and propped himself up on his elbow. "I know a lot about Venice."

"Tell me."

"Well, you have your tourist attractions, naval history, Venice music project, all that…but there's…."

She listened as he went on to tell her about his favourite spots in the city, where he ate, where he stayed, and how many times he'd visited. They swapped stories about locations they'd been to during their tours and she smiled realizing they'd taken similar paths in terms of travel. He was different as he laid beside her, not the usual intense and serious man he always was. But he was softer, gentler, and very affectionate.

She felt different herself lying next to him. Not being a cop for a year most likely played a small role in that. Right now she just felt like a woman. A woman who'd taken that next step with a friend. It was surreal. Still unbelievable. But she found that she liked it. She liked it already this sudden change that had happened between them. She liked the way he touched her when he talked, whether it was on her shoulder, her thigh, or when he'd take her hand and hold it. She liked his kisses, the short ones to her cheek, and the long, sweet, deep ones that caused her stomach to shake and made her wet.

But more than the physical, was what he'd revealed emotionally in such a brief time. He was attached to her. She hadn't realized it in the past, but without a doubt she knew now that he was attached to her in a very real way. Surprisingly, she realized that growing bud of attachment had taken root inside her as well. She wasn't sure, when all was said and done, they'd be able to go back to the way things were before. She wasn't sure she wanted them to.

Conversation began to taper off after a while and she fluffed the pillows under her head. Her eyes started to droop, her limbs got heavy, and she could feel him touching her cheek.

"Get some sleep," he said, softly.

Sleep, she thought, as his lips brushed gently against hers. Sleep was what they both needed.

* * *

><p>Finch poured some high performance kibble into Bear's bowl and replaced the lid on the container.<p>

"At least one of us is eating this morning," he said to the dog and pursed his lips. He walked back to his desk and stared at the monitors again. Behind him he heard footsteps and Mr. Reese appeared, carrying a pink pastry box and two cups of hot liquid.

"Got some tea for you, Finch, some donuts. Might even be a sandwich in there too."

While Reese took a seat beside him, he turned his attention away from his screen for a moment to retrieve the sandwich and take a bite. A swallow of his tea afterwards really hit the spot.

"Thank you, Mr. Reese."

"What do you got so far, Finch?" Reese asked, tilting his head toward the monitor.

"Well, as I told you over the phone, we had a lead on what happened to Mr. Davenport. His car was recovered and they found his body not far from it."

"Is he dead?"

"Fortunately, no. But he is in the hospital in the ICU. Not sure if he'll make it, though. The local authorities have some prints taken from the vehicle, most of them were his, but they got a partial print that's led them to Dean Richards."

The photo of Dean Richards showed up on one of the monitors and Reese asked Finch to print it for him. "See what you can find out about him, Finch. Send me the information as fast as you can."

"I've already begun a search for him, Mr. Reese."

Reese nodded, getting the photo from the printer. "Good. If this is the man who delivered Carter's mail last week, he and I need to have a talk."

"How is she?" Finch asked, and watched as a mixture of emotions crossed his friend's face.

It must have been a tremendous shock seeing her again. He stood helplessly on the pavement while John had held her, pleading with her not to leave him. He watched as her death nearly destroyed John. He'd almost given up on living. The numbers and the fact that he and Fusco wouldn't give up on him were the only things that'd had convinced him to try again. It was only recently that John had finally come to accept that she was gone. And now, she was back.

"She's…strong." Reese shrugged, looking away. "She's understandably scared, but…she'll be okay."

"And how are you?"

Carter coming back was almost like giving Mr. Reese a second chance yet again. There was already a notable change in him that Finch could detect. His focus, his drive, had returned, along with an undercurrent of something else. Peace. That's the only thing that Finch could think to describe it.

"I'm…I'm good, Finch. Really."

"Then I'm glad."

"I have to go to the precinct, check in with Fusco." He reached inside the pastry box, taking out two donuts. "I'll take a few of these for him."

"Are you going to tell him about Detective Carter?"

"No. I don't want him to know. In fact, I want this to stay between you, me, and her. The more people know, the greater the risk to Joss. I won't let something happen to her again. Understood?" Reese looked at Bear when he whined. "Okay Bear, but you have to keep it a secret, too."

Finch smiled a little, shaking his head. "Understood, Mr. Reese. I should have the information you want soon enough. I'll be in touch right before I leave for my afternoon lecture."

"By the way, Finch. There are two cameras near the entrance to the condo. Can you see what you can do about disabling them for me, please?"

* * *

><p>The morning at the precinct wore on for Reese. Longer than he'd intended. He'd been buried in paperwork that he'd forgotten to do for the last couple of cases and he really didn't think he'd ever get used to this part of the fake job. In the CIA, he didn't have the hassle of keeping records. Besides, his employers didn't exactly want to keep track of how many bodies he'd dropped or how many buildings he'd blown up. This was a royal pain in the ass.<p>

Fusco had gone to speak with a potential witness to the triple homicide they'd been called out to yesterday in Washington Heights, and his chair sat opposite Reese's desk unoccupied. It was around 11am when he finally heard from Finch. His search had been fruitful. He texted him the last known address of Dean Richards, his place of employment, and a few other photos he'd found. Reese rushed through his last report and shoved the file in his desk. He switched his computer off and got up, intending to leave.

"Hey Riley, come here." Reese turned around, hearing the sound of the Captain's voice behind him. He thought she was still out of town.

"Captain," he said, walking into her office.

"Shut the door, Riley."

He did as he was told and waited for her to speak.

"You got some mail for Joss Carter yesterday?"

"Yeah, I did."

"What'd you do with it?" she asked.

"It's still at my desk, why?"

"Did you get anything for her today?"

"Haven't had a chance to check my mail yet."

"Check it. And then get back to me."

She looked down at a pile of letters in her hand, and when he didn't move right away she glanced up at him again. "Now, Riley."

Reese walked back to his desk, rummaging through the short stack of envelopes that had been put there. Out of the seven envelopes, two of them were addressed to Joss. He looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking and read the return addresses. One was from Taylor's school. The other was from One State Bank in Hoboken, New Jersey. He put both envelopes into the pocket of his jacket and took the magazine out of his desk drawer.

Rita Torres looked up once he reentered her office, a look of expectancy on her face. "Well, Detective?"

"Nothing today, just this magazine from yesterday afternoon." He passed it to her and watched as she added it to a pile of other mail addressed to Carter. "That Detective…she died didn't she?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, she did. She was shot not too far from the station. By a fellow officer. You should have heard about it. The big HR takedown."

"Oh yeah. The one with Alonzo Quinn.

"Yeah."

"How's the trial going? I haven't exactly been following," he explained, when she looked at him in disbelief.

"Not too good right now," she said shaking her head. "A lot of low level officers might go down, but prosecution's having a hard time tying Quinn directly to anything."

"So there's a possibility he might walk?"

She shrugged, then turned her eyes back to her paperwork. "If anything else comes across your desk, let me know."

"Who gets all her mail, Captain?"

She looked up at him again, wondering at his sudden curiosity. She tilted her head as she eyed him head to toe, and he decided not to push it anymore today. "I'll let you know."

When he got back to his desk, Fusco was entering the bullpen and sat down.

"How'd it go with the witness?" he asked him.

"Didn't get much. Guy was practically shaking in his boots the whole time. Gonna make a few phone calls, follow up on what he did manage to give me. See where that leads. What about you? Where you headed?" he asked.

"I've got to pick up some groceries," he replied, picking up his cell phone.

He stared at it in his hand, realizing that Carter needed a secure way to call him or Finch if she needed either one of them. Before he went to get food, he needed to pay a visit to Ali Hasan. He dropped the two donuts on Fusco's desk and headed for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N This chapter was not beta'd so forgive any errors in grammar or punctuation.

*Disclaimer ~ Nothing you see belongs to me.

* * *

><p>There was no one beside her when Carter woke up. It took her a while to realize where she was once she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Normally she would hear the sound of the waves outside, seagulls flying past the window. The neighbours' cars would drive down the street as they headed for work, but this morning was quiet. She moved her hand across the rumpled sheet beside her, the pillow that John had used. She had fallen asleep in his arms and during the night she had felt his hands on her, pulling her close when she rolled to the other side of the bed. Now, the linens were the only signs that he'd been there. The bed seemed awfully big and empty without him, and when she got up, a stroll through the condo revealed that she was alone. He must have risen early to go to work, but he hadn't forgotten to start the coffeemaker before he left. She could smell the aroma as she walked into the kitchen and saw the can of coffee on the counter. It wasn't among their purchases last night; he'd bought it for her this morning. The pot was still warm to the touch, she thought with a smile. She wondered why he didn't wake her, but they'd both gone to bed so close to morning he probably hadn't wanted to disturb her.<p>

Smoothing her hair behind her ear, she opened one of the cupboards above the sink and retrieved a mug. She poured herself a cup and looked at the clock on the wall. It was already noon, and the latest she'd slept in a long while. Her unexpected reunion with John, the drive back to Manhattan and their subsequent meeting with Finch had all drained her energy. She blushed as she thought of their lovemaking, the way he'd held her, kissed her, how he felt moving inside her. She still couldn't believe it. And as she headed for the couch, she couldn't deny the longing she felt for him. She'd missed him during the months she'd been in hiding, but now her need to be near him had intensified. She wanted him again.

For a whole year, sex had been one of the last things on her mind, let alone intimacy with any man. Now all she could think about was the feel of his lips on hers, his raspy voice whispering in her ear and the warmth of his tongue as it travelled over her neck.

"And other places," she said, grinning to herself.

What a talented mouth he had. She never in a million years could have guessed that he'd be so orally gifted, that he could drive her over the edge and back. That he'd be the one to practically set her on fire. Every time she thought she'd reached her highest peak, she felt him pull her closer, felt him grow hard against her thigh, and he'd prove her wrong. She thought about his kisses, the way he pushed his tongue in her mouth, the passionate way he claimed her lips. She thought about his hands. Hands she'd seen expertly handle a weapon, but on her body they had served quite a different purpose. They had marked her, held her, and felt so good when they stroked her.

Oh, they had stroked her! The first time he made her come, when he insisted on watching her face, never once taking his eyes off her. It had been such a turn on. So intimate, so personal, so unexpected. He made her feel so wanted and desired...and so sexy. She closed her eyes, remembered how she moaned into his mouth while she vibrated on his fingers. Damn. John. Of all people, John. Of all the men in her life. After Paul. After Beecher. He had definitely been the most unexpected. The one she'd never thought of. But why wouldn't she? Maybe because the thought of the two of them together seemed impossible.

She had always known there was an undercurrent of attraction between them, but there were too many other things that took precedence; her job, his past, her child, and the fact that she worked alongside a vigilante and his billionaire partner trying to save the world in their own little way despite her being a cop. The stakes had always been high, now they were even higher. Ironically, now that her life was in danger, now when starting something with him was probably the worst idea ever, now was when it seemed the easiest, the most uncomplicated thing they had ever done.

When he found her in Montauk, the first thing she had thought about was being in his arms, expressing to him physically what she couldn't do verbally. It had been easy for him as well. In the morgue she knew the words he had said to her hadn't come easily. They'd been said out of a fear that they were both possibly out of time. But when he kissed her yesterday, when he made love to her, fear was nowhere present. It had been thrown out the door. And they both touched each other out of a need to begin anew because time waited for no one. There was no thought about hesitation or however bad of an idea it might be. Nothing else mattered at that moment besides them. And nothing else mattered to her right now.

She drank the rest of her coffee and went to get a change of clothes from the bedroom. Her cell phone rang just as she was about to go take a shower. It was the captain. She stared at it while it shrilled. She bit her bottom lip feeling tempted to answer, but in the end, she let it go to voicemail. After the last ring she checked and saw that there'd been about ten missed calls between her and Bill from WITSEC. They were both looking for her. She had to make contact with them. Today. She just needed to talk to John first.

* * *

><p>Reese added the last item at the register and nodded his head in greeting at the cashier before she ran his groceries across the scanner. He wondered if he might have gone a little overboard with his purchases and looked at the excessive amount of things that he picked up. He wasn't exactly sure what to buy. From the few times he'd let himself into Carter's old house, he knew she had a weakness for popcorn, the movie theatre type, so he made sure to grab a large box of them for her. Other than that, he got well beyond the basics and anything else he thought she might want.<p>

"That's a lot of groceries there, Detective Riley."

He closed his eyes, letting out an uncomfortable sigh and turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Leafing through a magazine with a half eaten candy bar in her hand, was Shaw.

"Who are you buying all that stuff for, John?"

"They're for me, Shaw. You might want to invest in some groceries yourself, instead of living off that stuff all the time." He tilted his chin toward the basket she had looped over her arm that was loaded with junk food. He pulled out a few bills and passed them to the cashier.

"Ha, ha, ha. You're funny. And you're also a liar."

"I've got no reason to lie about something as simple as groceries."

Shaw reached for the bottle of Pink Moscato before the cashier could bag it and waved it at him. "You want me to believe that you bought this for yourself?"

"As a matter of fact," he said, pulling it out of her grip. "I did."

"Right, sure you did. Who is she?"

"There is no _she_, Shaw," Reese answered, and hurriedly packed the remaining items into plastic bags. The cashier was moving too slow for his liking.

"There is most definitely a she, and _she_…seems to like Pink Moscato, gourmet ice cream, and…cinnamon flavoured Pita chips. Mmmm….and you must really like her."

Her laughter and teasing grated on his nerves, though he guessed it was better she thought he was seeing someone rather than harbouring their newest number. A number he was working on alone. A number that just happened to be Carter. But as he walked out with the bags, he knew Shaw was not going to drop it. She'd needle him – and Finch – till she got some answers.

* * *

><p>Fusco looked at his watch and took a look at the statement in front of him. He'd just interrogated a witness to the triple homicide and though the lead was promising, he hoped it was enough for an arrest. Leonard Cooper saw a masked gunman jump into a car in the vicinity of the shooting, saw him pull off, but he had only seen a partial licence plate number when the car disappeared down the street. Cooper was terrified. Of being a witness, of testifying, but mostly of going against the Croats. If they knew he had been the one to point the finger in their direction, they would come after him. Fusco did what he could to reassure him that they would do whatever they could to ensure his safety. Right now he was running the plate numbers Cooper was able to remember through the system.<p>

It was almost 1pm, and Wonder Boy still had yet to return. He wondered how much longer he could keep up this charade of being a detective. He didn't like playing by the rules; he didn't like the restrictions of making an arrest over shooting someone in the kneecaps. He didn't like having a real authority figure and someone to answer to. And now it seemed as if he didn't like doing any actual police work. He'd pulled a disappearing act yesterday afternoon, and even though he'd shown his face this morning, he hadn't stayed in the office for more than a few hours. It wouldn't be long before his absence would be noticed.

"Hey Fusco, you get anything outta your witness?" Rita Torres made her way over to his desk and loomed over him, both hands at her waist.

"Got a good lead on the vehicle the gunman used. I'm trying to get a positive match on a partial licence plate number he gave us as we speak."

"Good work, Fusco," she said, and looked around at Reese's empty chair. "Where's your partner?" she asked.

"He's uh…working another lead on the case," Fusco responded, averting his eyes.

"Another witness?" she asked.

"Went back to the murder scene to take another look around. Just in case we missed something yesterday."

When he met Torres' gaze again, he could see she wasn't buying his story, but it was the one he was sticking to for the moment. He wasn't gonna give him up, despite the fact that he had no idea what he was up to now or had been up to since yesterday afternoon. Fusco knew it was something. He hoped that whatever it was, it'd be over soon. There was only so much lying he could do for his partner.

* * *

><p>Carter had just wandered into the living room and had curled up on the sofa with her feet underneath her when she heard the front door open. In walked Reese, his arms laden with bags of groceries, and he headed straight for the kitchen. He hadn't spotted her and immediately called out her name.<p>

"Joss."

"I'm coming," she said, and walked the short distance to join him at the island where he decided to dump the bags.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he said, and looked at her apologetically. "I met with Finch earlier this morning, then had to go to the precinct. I went to get the groceries like I promised but had to make a stop first."

She leaned on the counter next to him, studying him as he spoke. He was wearing a dark gray shirt under his jacket. She couldn't remember ever seeing him in anything but his normal uniform of black and white. It was a nice change, an interesting contrast against his tanned skin, skin she was eager to touch again in the very near future.

"I didn't want to wake you this morning…"

She had thought as much earlier, and he started emptying the bags and put everything on the island in front of him. She didn't answer, but she couldn't help feeling amused that he'd suddenly become so domesticated talking about groceries and her favourite ice cream. She moved behind him and slid her arms around his waist. He seemed surprised by her sudden gesture, but he relaxed in her arms and put his hands atop hers.

"I hope I didn't miss anything."

She could feel the vibrations of his voice as she leaned her face against his back. "Well, you seem to have bought enough food to feed a small army. How long do you think I need to stay here?"

"I don't know. Maybe a week. At least. Just long enough for us to figure out who's behind all this. As long as it takes to make sure you're safe."

"You're a bonafide guardian angel." He turned around in her arms and looked down at her.

"That important stop I made before I went to get food…" He dug around in his pocket for a minute and pulled out a cell phone. "This phone is programmed on a special network, hacker proof. You can use this to call me or Finch anytime you need to, and no one can track our calls or, more importantly, your location."

"Great, then I can call the captain," she said, taking the phone.

"Not yet," he replied, putting a hand over hers.

"John, I have to. She's been calling me all morning. So has Bill. I need to at least let them know that I left and that I'm alright."

"If you call, they're gonna ask where you are."

She was about to object, but he cut her off. "Not until I follow up on this lead I got this morning."

"What lead?"

"The police found Bernie. And his car."

She put a hand to her mouth, thinking the worst.

"He's okay, for now at least. But he's in the hospital in ICU." He put a hand on her shoulder and she waited for him to finish. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. When she unfolded it, she recognized the man's face immediately. Her new mail man.

"That's him, John. That's the guy who said he was filling in for Bernie."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. That's him. You got an ID on him?"

"Finch did. His name is Dean Richards, and the police found a partial print in Bernie's car."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to have a talk with him." He turned away from her and went back to unpacking the groceries. He said he was going to talk to Richards, but the look on his face told her otherwise. She knew that he wanted to keep her safe, but she also knew his habit of acting first and thinking later.

"Something tells me that you want to do more than just talk."

"Joss…" When he started to speak, she saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with firm resignation. "I meant it when I said I can't lose you again. If this guy was sent to kill you, there's no way I'm going to allow him to go through with it. I'm gonna find out who he works for…"

"And then what, John?"

"It's better if you stay out of it. I just need you to trust me."

"Of course I trust you. You know that I do, but…"

They'd been at this same crossroads before, and they were here again. They'd both disagreed over the appropriate punishment for Marshall Jennings after he tried to kill his wife, and when she quietly pleaded with him on that lonely road to give her custody of the Marshall, he'd asked for her trust. Against her better judgment she let him go even though she knew that what John really wanted to do was kill the man. The man had reminded him of what had happened to Jessica. He had reminded John that he hadn't gotten there in time to save his lost love. But he'd killed Peter eventually. And even though she knew it didn't make him feel better about Jessica's death, she didn't think there'd been one day since, that John ever regretted doing it. After being separated from her for a year and suddenly finding her, she understood that he wanted to save her like he hadn't been able to last time.

"Bill told me that someone tried to kill Quinn a couple days after I got shot. He said that this one man took control of the hotel that he was hiding in, cut the power, took out his protective detail and almost killed him. They never caught the guy, didn't know who he was. According to Quinn, the only reason he's alive is because…."

"…because I collapsed before I could go through with it."

She had always guessed that it was him, was pretty much sure of it. But her suspicions had never been confirmed until this moment. John had tears in his eyes now, and she saw just how deeply her 'death' had really hurt him. He'd been so devastated by it that he had risked his own life to go after the man he held responsible for her death.

"I was really after Simmons. Quinn was just a means to an end."

"Simmons is dead though, John. They never found out who did it."

"I think I know who did."

"Who?"

"Your pal, Elias. Probably did it to thank you for saving his life. He told me what you did."

"I couldn't let Yogorov kill him."

"I understand," he said, and put his hand to the side of her face. "And I need you to understand why I have to do this."

"What about Samaritan? If you go after this guy, you won't be Detective Riley. You'll be….who you used to be. Didn't you say that you're all being watched now? You can't do this. There must be another way."

"Not for me, there isn't.

"John….we can talk to Torres. She can help. Just let me call her."

"I don't…I won't want to risk losing you again."

"I know you don't, John. And I don't want to lose you. We have to trust somebody."

Once he looked into her eyes he knew it was the worst choice he could have made. He could have kept his resolve, done what he had to but once he gazed into her eyes, he knew he couldn't deny her anything. It felt like she was looking into his soul, seeing his insecurities about this fledgling thing between them and he wanted to hide. Her eyes were full of reason and logic that she was trying to get him to see. She wasn't going to back down, she was determined just like him, and ironically that same strength of mind and tenacity were what had drawn him to her from the very beginning.

In an effort to break eye contact, he pulled her into an embrace but swore silently when his cell phone rang. He didn't push her away, but answered the phone while she was still in his arms. It was Finch.

"John, I've got an update on Richards. There's a warrant out for his arrest. Bernie Davenport died about an hour ago in ICU."

"Thanks, Finch."

He tucked the phone back into his pocket, thinking that Finch had perfect timing. He now had a legitimate reason to go after Richards, one where he wouldn't have to do anything illegal to talk to him. It presented him with a compromise of sorts, one that he was sure Joss would be happy with, except now he had to break the bad news about Bernie.

"What is it? Tell me."

"Bernie's dead." He squeezed her a little tighter when he felt her sigh. "I'm sorry, Joss."

"It's okay."

"But now there's a warrant out for Richards' arrest. So if I go talk to him, I can legitimately shoot him in the knee-caps if I have to."

She pushed away from him, chuckling. "Try and resist the urge if you can."

"What are you going to tell Torres? She's gonna want answers, about how you knew someone was after you, about where you are…about me."

He adored the way she bit her bottom lip just then, her mind going a mile a minute. "I'll think of something."

"I'm going to -" He stopped abruptly, his phone ringing again, and he picked it up. This time it was Fusco.

"Where the hell are you, Riley?"

"I got caught up taking care of a _personal_ matter."

"Well whatever's got your attention since yesterday needs to be put on hold." Reese looked at Carter as she started to put the groceries away and thought about how difficult that would be.

"What's the matter, Lionel?"

"What's wrong is that the captain has been looking for you, and I'm running out of lies to tell her. I mentioned that you were at the crime scene in Washington Heights, so when you get back you better have a new lead for us to go on. I talked to a witness who gave us something we might be able to work with, but doing something to make Torres think you actually give a damn about this case would be a good idea. If you know what I mean."

"Okay, Lionel. I'll be there soon."

"Trouble at the Eighth?" she asked, looking at the pita chips he bought, the popcorn, and the Cookies & Cream ice cream. She was smiling in anticipation of them. He was glad that out of everything else he picked up, he'd gotten those choices right.

"I just have to go and do some real police work," he moaned.

"You mean like being an actual detective and not just pretending to be one? Welcome to the real world, Detective Riley," she said, and put the ice cream in the freezer.

When she closed the door, he pinned her against it and bent his head to kiss her. Her arms went around his neck quickly and from the eager way she returned his ardor, he could tell it was something she'd wanted much earlier than now. He should have done it the moment he walked in the door. Still, the taste of her mouth was just as sweet as he remembered, and her body pressed against his was soft as ever.

"Don't start something you can't finish right now," she whispered against his lips, and groaned.

"We'll continue this later," he said, kissing her again, and finally let her go.

"Promise?" she asked, and followed him to the front door.

He looked at her from head to toe, pictured her moaning underneath him and mentally cursed this cover ID for the millionth time. "You have my word, Joss."

* * *

><p>In an effort to make both he and Fusco look good in front of the captain, Reese made a trip back to the crime scene as promised. Nothing much looked out of the ordinary, he thought, as he slowly walked past the pavement where blood stains were still steeped into the asphalt. He turned his head to look around, thinking about the direction of where the bodies fell, and where the gunman could have gone right after he'd finished the hit. He'd made a call to Fusco right after he arrived, and according to Fusco's witness, the alleged gunman had come bolting around the corner at the end of the block before jumping into a car and speeding off. Reese headed in that direction, and when he got there, he saw nothing except an empty alley, a dumpster and a view straight out to the next corner.<p>

Reese sighed, looking around once more, clocking the area and taking note of everything in his line of sight. Behind the dumpster he saw where the wall had been damaged and some of the bricks had either been broken or had fallen out over time. There was a hole at the bottom near the ground, and when he walked closer he saw what appeared to be a brown paper bag pushed just inside the entrance. Reese crouched to the ground and pulled at it, disturbing a few rats that fled their hiding place at the sudden movement. He grimaced as he opened the bag slowly. Inside was an UZI, and most likely their murder weapon. The smile on his face was a genuine one as he got up from the ground and headed back to his vehicle. He was happy to have found this break in the case, much more than he could possibly describe. With the captain and Fusco off his back for a while, he could focus on finding out just what Dean Richards really knew.

* * *

><p>Shaw sat with her legs crossed opposite Finch in Washington Square Park. She scratched Bear behind the ears while she popped another fry into her mouth. It was her move, had been for the last five minutes, but she ignored Finch's impatient glare and looked around the park. She figured she'd make him wait a little longer as payback for not telling him about the latest number that he and Reese were working on. She was positive they had one, but for some reason they wanted her to sit this one out.<p>

Since Samaritan had been online they were all aware of how careful they had to be. She'd been wary of helping John when they got Ali Hasan's number a few weeks ago, but working that case had gotten her blood pumping again. Not only had she missed the thrill of doing something that actually mattered, she was sick of doing makeovers and handing out perfume samples while her real skills weren't being put to good use. These two had a new number, and they were keeping her out in the cold. So for that reason alone, Finch could suffer and wait just a little while longer.

"Ms. Gray, if you didn't notice, it's your turn to make a move." Finch's tone and the use of her new cover name was grating on her nerves. She cast a cold look in his direction before reaching for another fry.

"Oh thanks, Harold. I had no idea. By the way where's John?" She crammed another fry into her mouth, still refusing to make her move. By now, Finch was just about ready to call the game quits. "I saw him today at lunch. He was buying a truckload of groceries." She pretended that she didn't see the minute change of Finch's expression. Inwardly, she smiled. Got you now, she thought. She knew it! She knew that he knew something. He knew exactly who those groceries were for.

"So did he get back together with Zoe or something?"

"I have no idea what is going on in Detective Riley's personal life, even if that is the case."

"Come on, Harold. If anybody knows anything, it'd be you." She leaned in close and her voice was just above a whisper when she spoke again. "We both know he's been a mess since…you know…"

Finch looked around nervously and pursed his lips together.

"If you ask me, I'd say some female attention is exactly what he needs right now," Shaw said with a shrug. "So, if it isn't Zoe, who is it?"

* * *

><p>Reese sat at his desk back at the precinct with a smug look on his face, while Fusco wondered just how he'd gotten so lucky and happened to find the murder weapon. At the moment, AFIS was pulling the fingerprints from the gun, and they were both waiting to see if there was a link between the owner of the UZI and the car the partial licence plate belonged to. It was close to 4pm. In a little more than an hour his shift would be over. He figured he'd stay and finish it, do some paperwork and pretend that his mind wasn't on something else like catching Dean Richards off guard and putting a bullet in his brain after he told him who he was working for.<p>

"Not bad, Riley." Reese looked up, seeing the Captain walking toward his desk. He knew Joss wanted to call her, wondered if she had already. "Heard about the murder weapon. Not bad at all."

"We just got lucky," he replied, trying to conceal his disinterest.

"I have to admit when Fusco told me you went back to the crime scene, I was a bit skeptical."

"Why would you be? You think my head's anywhere else than on this job?" He offered one of his trademark smirks, and she was about to respond when her cell phone rang.

"Torres," she said, answering.

Her brows knitted together, and she quickly concealed the look of surprise on her face to make a beeline for her office. She firmly shut the door behind her, and Reese stared at it for a moment. It had to be Joss on the other end.

"What the hell was that all about, huh?"

Reese shrugged at Fusco's question and slumped into his chair, his legs wide in front of him. He absently ran his fingers down the side of his face, wondering what Joss would say to the Captain and what her reaction would be. Joss was adamant that they had to trust someone. He himself had told Finch that he didn't believe she was corrupt. But right now his need to keep Carter safe was beginning to outweigh his trust for his captain. He felt like Joss was taking a huge chance calling her before he talked to Richards. Reese just hoped that Torres didn't end up disappointing them both.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Sorry for the long wait. Hope you enjoy the chapter. No beta, so forgive any errors you might find.

**Disclaimer ~ I don't own Person of Interest or its characters.

* * *

><p>Picking up Dean Richards had been easier than Reese had anticipated. They'd found him at his apartment in Brooklyn having dinner, but instead of taking him back to the 8th, he and the Captain drove for about an hour and a half to a Sheriff's station in Bedford. Even under the stark lighting in the interrogation room and one of his hands cuffed to the desk, he was still defiant. Whoever had hired him to go after Carter must have paid him well for his silence, because right now he was being less than forthcoming with his responses to Torres' questions.<p>

Reese seethed inwardly thinking of him being anywhere near Joss. His firearm was at the small of his back, but his fingers itched to hold it, press it against Richards' temple and pull the trigger. If the Captain hadn't accompanied him here, he and Richards would be having a very different type of conversation. One that didn't involve as many words, but one that would involve more action.

* * *

><p><strong>Three Hours Ago<strong>

"Riley."

Reese and Fusco both abruptly turned as the captain called to him from her office door. The expression on her face gave them both pause. Fusco removed his glasses, resting them on the desk in front of him as his gaze passed between them.

"Captain?" Reese asked, standing up.

"My office please," she responded, retreating and sitting behind her desk once more.

When he sat before her, door closed behind him, he watched her toy with her cell phone in her hand, a look of disbelief on her face. She seemed at a loss for words, not sure how to begin the conversation.

"Captain?" he repeated.

"This morning I asked you if you had any mail for Joss Carter."

"You did. And I told you that I didn't."

"So you said. But then you went on to pretend as if you didn't know who she was, or the circumstances that surrounded her death at all."

She looked at him for a moment, pausing, an awkward silence fell over the room.

"I'm not sure I understand what it is you're getting at, Captain."

Reese thought it better to feign ignorance especially since he didn't know what Carter might have told her about him or how they knew each other. Was his cover as a detective blown? Did she tell the Captain about how they really met? In addition to concerns he held about his real identity, he still wasn't a hundred percent sure they could trust her, and he wanted to feel her out as much as possible since Carter's life was still in danger.

"I thought it was curious that you wanted to know about where her mail was going and who got it. Why it would interest you, you know?"

She watched his face carefully, and Reese thought that she seemed just as wary of him as he was of her.

"Did you call me in here to talk about the Detective's mail?"

"I called you in here because the Detective is very much alive, and it's something she just informed me that you've been very much aware of. The fact that you've conveniently hidden that knowledge for the last two days at least or God knows how much longer is what concerns me. I want to know why."

"As you said, she's very much alive, and given the substantial reasons she has to keep that secret, I felt it warranted equal pretense."

"I've been looking for her for the last thirty six hours."

"Unfortunately, you're not the only one."

"You're right about that, Riley. The house she was staying at in Montauk was broken into yesterday. Someone tore the place up looking for her."

Apparently he'd gotten to Carter just in time. One day later and she might have been lost to him forever. He took the photo of Richards out of his pocket and slid it across her desk. "This is the guy who's most likely responsible. His name is Dean Richards."

"She mentioned him," Torres replied, looking at the photo. "She said she noticed him in her neighbourhood, and she felt something was off about him. She said she contacted you because the only other two people who knew she was there were me and Bill. She wasn't exactly sure who to trust."

Reese could see from the tilt of her head that she was a little disappointed with the information. Had he been in her place he might have felt the same. But he was sure she knew that in a situation such as theirs, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I find it hard to believe that the two of you went to the Police Academy together _and_ worked a beat for two years before you got a new partner." She eyed him skeptically from across her desk.

"Why is that?"

"You and Fusco are like fire and water. I can't imagine you and Joss Carter lasting two years, let along two months working together without wanting to kill each other."

He smirked as she shook her head. "Who says we didn't?"

"She said that she trusts you. A whole lot. Which is why you were the first person she thought to call."

"And I'm grateful for that. She's been there for me more times than I can count."

She pondered his admission. this revelation about the two of them being partners and friends piqued her curiosity. Her eyes were full of questions. None of which she would ask, probably because she wasn't sure she wanted to know, or because she was sure he wouldn't answer them.

"What do you want to do, Riley?"

"Pick Richards up. Question him. There's a warrant for his arrest in Montauk. He killed Carter's regular mailman when he was looking for her. Bernard Davenport ."

"You've been busy in the last couple of days, haven't you?" she asked, amazed at how many details of the case he already had.

"I say we go question him, see how he found her. And don't talk to her contact at WITSEC. Not one word till we find out who Richards is working for."

"What about Fusco?" she asked, opening her top drawer. She pulled her firearm out and stood up.

"The Washington Heights case isn't fully wrapped up. And after the fingerprints come in from that gun, he has a few arrests to make. That'll keep him busy for a while. You just gave me a new case, and you want me to start working on it right away."

"Sounds good to me."

She fed the story to Lionel, and though he nodded, the look on his face suggested skepticism. He didn't say anything as he and the Captain left the precinct, but Reese knew the questions would come later.

* * *

><p>The smell of herbs and seasonings filled the air as Carter combined baby spinach, garlic, and plum tomatoes before drizzling pasta sauce over them in a saucepan. She turned the heat down on the stove and stirred them slowly. As the ingredients married together she sipped on a glass of white wine and tried not to think of the conversation Torres must have had with John after she'd called her or their subsequent questioning of Richards later on. She wanted to be there. Wanted to look him in the eye when he told them who'd sent him after her. She was sick of sitting around waiting for her life to start again. Sick of running away. It was never something that she was good at. Not that there weren't moments in her life when she was scared or had doubts, but she never let them get the best of her. She was the type to meet things head on, and sitting idly by while John handled things without her was terribly difficult for her to do.<p>

So while he was gone, she busied herself with fixing dinner. Shrimp fettuccine seemed like a good idea. It was quick, simple, and easy. and maybe when she sat down to eat it, maybe when she'd had enough wine, she'd feel a little better.

She drained the pasta, the steam from the boiling water rising up in the air. The last time she cooked pasta it was for Taylor. Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and parmesan cheese. She remembered the exact date, what they watched on TV afterwards, the conversation they had that night before he went to bed. She'd committed it all to memory and held onto it tightly since she'd been gone. It hurt being back in NYC, being so close to him but not being able to see him, hear him talk, hold him.

She started thinking of the moments they shared and suddenly felt overwhelmed. She'd abandoned him. yeah, there were people who wanted to kill her, but she left her boy behind, something she thought she'd never be able to do. What if he hated her when he found out the truth? What if he never forgave her for what she did?

She felt like she couldn't breathe. Felt like the walls were closing in. and finally she let herself do what she wouldn't for a long time. Cry. She let the colander drop in the sink and once she allowed the first tears to roll down her cheeks, they triggered a release of suppressed emotion that she had tamped down for so long. It felt like fire breaking free from her chest, and her hands moved to her stomach, trying to bring comfort to herself. Trying to soothe the hollow feeling she had in her womb as if she'd truly lost her child.

She needed to see her son.

* * *

><p>Reese was growing impatient. So far he'd let the Captain do all the talking, but her questions were not yielding them any answers. Not any that he was satisfied with anyway. He sighed, looked up at the mounted surveillance camera on the wall and knew they were running out of time. He walked over to it, quietly disengaged the cable that powered the camera and effectively shut off the feed to the room.<p>

"I think this has gone on long enough, don't you Dean?" Reese said, his voice quiet and raspy.

His action didn't go unnoticed. both Torres and Richards looked at him nervously as he returned to the table.

"Hey, man. What are y -?"

Before Richards could finish his question, Reese grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head onto the table. He ignored Torres when she called his name. Ignored whatever she said next as he pointed the barrel of his gun at Richards' temple.

"Okay. Okay. Take it easy," Richards said.

"Who sent you to kill Detective Carter?"

"They'll kill me. They'll kill me, man."

Reese raised his head momentarily before slamming it on top of the cold steel once more.

"Are you more worried about them right now, Richards? Or me?"

"Ok," he said, shakily. "Ok, ok…there's a guy…over at WITSEC. He works for Alonzo Quinn. I don't know the details of how he found out, but he knew someone was hiding her. And he knew she was the one who'd led the investigation against Quinn. They hired me to get rid of her so she couldn't testify. Quinn thought with Carter and Simmons dead and nobody able to identify or prove that he was in charge, he'd walk."

"Detective Fusco knew Quinn's identity," Torres said, standing over him.

"Until a few years ago he was rumored to be a dirty cop. A defence attorney would rip his testimony to pieces on the stand."

"Who's the guy at WITSEC that knew about Bell?" Reese asked. "I want his name."

"Martin," Richards squealed. "Timothy Martin. He's the one that hired me."

* * *

><p>Carter pulled at the lapels of her jacket and pulled the zipper all the way up to the top. She looked around nervously and adjusted the hoodie that was over her head.<p>

_So far, so good_, she thought. she entered an apartment building in Brooklyn and headed straight for the elevator. She rode it all the way to the top floor then climbed the next half floor of steps to head to the roof. Once outside under the New York sky, she walked to the edge and dropped the backpack that was on her shoulder to the ground at her feet.

The building she'd gone to was about two floors higher than the one adjacent to it, and it provided the perfect vantage point to look through the front window of an apartment on its fifth floor. She knew it wasn't really safe to be out here alone, but she had to come. She had to. Taylor was here studying with his friend, and if she only got to see him for five minutes, that would be enough.

With Reese gone and her not knowing when he'd be back she decided to go see Finch, and he was more than surprised to find her waiting for him in the subway car at their new headquarters. He listened to her request for her to find Taylor, to find out where he would be. He was reluctant to use the machine to track the boy's GPS on his phone, Samaritan was still watching their every move, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. She was determined to see him. He half heartedly let her take the binoculars and one of Reese's weapons on her way out. And though he begged her to wait for John so he could accompany her, she wouldn't. She knew instead of tagging along, he would only try to talk her out of it. It had been a year and two days. She couldn't wait any longer.

Her hand trembled as she took the binoculars out of the bag and peered through them, looking around the apartment for any sign of him. From what she could see the television was on, there was movement in the kitchen, but the living room was empty. She kissed her teeth, anxious for a glimpse, her eyes welling with tears in anticipation before he suddenly came into view. He was taller. Much taller than he was the last time she saw him. His hair was cut low, his shoulders broader and there was a new air about him as he walked from the kitchen to the living room to plop down on the sofa. Some of the playfulness was gone; he seemed more…serious, sober, mature. Even at this distance she noticed the subtle changes in him.

She let out a heavy sigh and looked away for a minute, thinking of the parts of his life she'd missed, time she'd never get back. She continued to watch as two other teens emerged from the kitchen, snacks in hand and joined him. After another fifteen minutes passed they cracked open the books and she stood rooted to the spot. Another fifteen minutes passed, and then another, and pretty soon Carter lost track of how long she'd been standing up there. It didn't matter. If she could watch him for the rest of the night, she would.

* * *

><p>It was almost eleven o'clock when Reese made it back to Manhattan. His first stop was at Finch's condo to look for Carter, but when he got there, the place was empty. His heart hammered in his chest and he went from room to room while he called out her name. He clutched his gun tightly, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. He'd charged into her house when he realized she was the one who'd hijacked Yogorov's shipment of drugs and taken his truck. His heart had been in his throat at the time too.<p>

Where the hell was she? Did Richards lie when he told them he was working alone? He said after finding her in Montauk he had no idea of where she'd gone afterwards. Reese had been inclined to believe that he'd been in enough fear of losing his life at the time that he'd been telling the truth.

There'd been no signs of forced entry, no struggle, so she either left on her own or she'd gone with somebody she knew. He dialed Finch's number, waiting impatiently for him to pick up. When he did, Reese questioned him without preamble.

"Finch, have you heard from Carter?"

"I have, Mr. Reese."

"Do you know where she is?"

Finch sighed heavily on the other end before speaking again, and Reese feared the worst. He couldn't lose her again. He couldn't. Not when things between them were finally out in the open. Not when he was doing all that he could to make sure she was safe.

"Yes, I do. And you're not going to like it."

* * *

><p>AN Sorry to end on a cliffhanger but I didn't want the chapter to be too long. Next one will be interesting. Thanks for reading.


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